Wednesday, September 30, 2009

don't look down

Tonight, I took Liv to a meeting. It just so happened to be at a place that I haven't been to in 19 months and 12 days. The place Liv was baptised. The place we were married. The place Jeff's funeral was held.
I didn't think it would affect me much. I thought I had grown stronger and more resilent. I knew it would sting a bit, but I hadn't anticipated this.
I had to fill out forms. Forms that had Jeff's name on them. I had to cross out his name. Cross it out. Like I was crossing him out. It felt wrong. I didn't want to swipe him away as if he didn't exist. He did. He was and always will be her father. I wrote 'deceased' beside his name and the traitorous strike in his name. I had to cross out his cell phone number. I had to write a new emergency contact.
It all feels....horribly, sickeningly wrong.
When outside, I stood in the spot where photos had been taken of us in our wedding garb. Now so seemingly frivolous and silly. It is also the same spot that I watched his coffin be driven away. The spot where Liv had waved and yelled, "Bye Daddy!" as the gravel crunched under the tires of the hearse.
I remember standing there. In a sedated state that made time go slower, the thoughts in my head unable to be voiced for others so I may feel some iota of comfort, and worrying, as I did for months after, that I was going to teeter and fall off this shaky precipice I was standing on. That I may just slip and fall.....fall apart. Lose myself. Lose.........more than the everything I already had.
Most nights, I tuck myself into bed and attempt to turn off my head. Tell myself that I am doing okay. That I can do it. I can do it for the kids. Comfort myself with the thought that one day, it will all make sense....where he went. If he is still with me.
But tonight, I go to bed that same scared woman. Alone. Terrified. Lost. Solitary in my own head. Missing my anchor, my love, my best friend with all my heart.
Standing on a ledge. Am I going to slip? Am I going to fall off? Can I convince myself to just stare straight ahead?
Don't look down. Don't look side to side. Just stare at the horizon and keep standing....Please, just keep standing.

10 comments:

Jen said...

Oh Jackie, I'm sorry it was a tough day. Just when you think the triggers have eased up, another one blindsides you. My thoughts are with you as you make your way through this one.

Ansia said...

You don't know me, yet in this post its like you do. I have felt that before. I am feeling it today. May things get brighter, if only for a little while, soon.

Crash Course Widow said...

No, you're not going to slip. Well, even if you do (and it's okay if you do), all you'll end up with is a nasty bruise and a sore ass. A slip isn't the start of the end; it's just a slip...nothing more, nothing less.

I still think that that second year of grief and widowhood is super tough, but no one ever really tells you about it. Like you're hinting, you can claim you're doing better most days, it doesn't hurt quite as bed, you can hold it together for the kids now, blah blah blah. But after 4 years of practice and hindsight, I can see now how 19 months and 12 days is still so damned early in this process. Of course you're still going to have some terribly shitty moments, days, times when you go to bed.

And it's normal. And it's okay. And for those of us who've walked this road, we've all been there...many, many times. And when you slip a little, can't look to the sides at all, we're here to hold you up a little bit, to help you limp along until it's not so precipitous or slippery. Because it does get better....

Sending you many, many hugs, Jackie, and lots of love. I'm so sorry you had to deal with this tonight.

Mama_Bear_Sarah said...

I have these days too ...out of nowhere, so unexpectedly, all those emotions well up and spill over. And I too, have to convince myself to push forward even when my very raw heart just wants to shut down and go to him. thinking of you...

Kate said...

Hey, Jackie -

My thoughts are with you, as always. That must have been so hard.

Brooke Gullikson said...

my heart is with you and your beautiful little ones, jackie...

Abigail said...

Think of it as a horizon full of possibilities and you are a bird about to take flight for the first time. Your only decision is which direction to fly...

Jenny Davis said...

Oh damn. That's pretty much all I can say. I'm sorry...

elizabeth said...

Wow..your writing is beautiful and moving...and inspiring. Thank you for being so real.

Poppy and Mei said...

XXxx.